


How to Kill a Guy Properly

by slightlyjillian



Category: Lost
Genre: Gen, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-25
Updated: 2010-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-06 16:29:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlyjillian/pseuds/slightlyjillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set Post-Island, Jack isn't taking it very well.  Sawyer gets a job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Kill a Guy Properly

**Author's Note:**

> written in 2005. Unfinished after a fashion, but it kind of has all the pieces to be a complete, modern short story.

_Now:_

He went to church for two weeks. After the second Sunday, Jack checked himself into the hospital. He wore the same suit and tie, having not bothered to remove them. No reason to. He hadn't slept in as many days. Night rolled into morning without definition or distinction. The lights in his apartment were dim. The curtains drawn tight.

The doctors were pleasant and seemed to observe him with no small measure of amusement. Had he tried counting sheep? Warm milk or tea? Made sure his head was pointing north? How long had he suffered the symptoms of insomnia? Was there any change in his lifestyle or work to cause additional stress?

Something was wrong. Jack Shepard could feel it in the hollow of his stomach and the ache between his shoulder blades. Self-diagnosis, self-help had proven to be no help at all. He knew that his request was being handled from respect of his medical titles and any average man making the same demands would have been sent home to the care of his primary care physician. Jack was shown to a room where he could stay under observation. Frankly, he didn't care if they believed the significance of his condition. He was being watched. Safe from the outside.

The naked walls and the quaint bed were hardly any more solace than the church building had been. Jack continued to feel the swell of discontinuity.

***

_Then:_

"He was a doctor, you say?"

"Just like his father." She tipped her bottle toward his in acknowledgment. The front of her t-shirt hugging her chest damp from their recent dip in the backyard pool. Her legs, shapely and folded over each other as the last half-hearted defense. Most of her blond hair was pulled back. A few loose pieces began to curl and stick to her chapped red cheeks. "Doesn't have a clue as to how one invests money."

"Well, I'll just have to show him my portfolio..."

***

_Now:_

"We'll keep your resume, Mr. Sawyer. We have a couple other interviews later this week, and you'll hear from us shortly."

"Thank you," All he could think of right then was how ready he was to get out of the tie. They stood and shook hands.

"Is there anything you'd like to add? Any other skills that you think might qualify you for this position?"

_Yeah, I finally know how to kill a guy properly._ Sawyer felt a lazy smile breaking through his sarcasm. "No, I think my application covered it all."

***

_Then:_

"Jack? Jack?" The voice, familiar and not unwelcome. At first, Jack couldn't put a name to it. Then he realized that he couldn't make any sound. The pain from his neck soon overcoming even his sense of hearing.

Next, he felt pressure around his throat. Momentary relief, and he could see light. And yellow.

"I manage to find my way back and look at this mess." Sawyer's hands were on his neck. Then Jack remembered the knife, and felt Sawyer's fingers resist sliding over the slick of what must be his blood. "What's going on, Doc? I had to pull Locke off you. He was damn close to killing you."

"Infect'd," Jack wheezed, struggling. Fighting back his own panic, but unable to rest.

"Hey, settle down," Sawyer said, his brow furrowed. "You're the one who showed me how to kill a man properly. And Locke isn't going anywhere."


End file.
